u/Efficient_End1958

Congratulations! You have been selected to test a product for free!

The advertisement on Vance’s browser appeared thoroughly unremarkable. Usually, such promotions were transparently fraudulent, demanding shipping fees that far exceeded the base value of the goods, or designed strictly to harvest personal data. Vance typically scrolled past them without a second thought. However, a sudden, idle curiosity prompted him to click.

The landing page made an extraordinary claim: a single stick of gum engineered to deliver three full courses with negligible caloric content. A complimentary five-pack would be dispatched immediately with zero shipping costs or hidden fees, available on a strict first-come, first-served basis.

Recognizing the enterprise as deeply suspect—likely a mechanism for address acquisition—Vance nonetheless proceeded out of sheer amusement, fully anticipating a subsequent payment verification screen. Instead, clicking the submit button immediately bypassed all standard checkout architecture:

Thank you for signing up for the gum trial! Based on your address you entered, expect the product to arrive in (1) day! We hope to hear your feedback! Enjoy!

Vance stared at the confirmation page, briefly unsettled. Without his credit card information, financial exposure was zero, but the impossibly rapid delivery projection defied standard logistics. Dismissing the entire affair as an internet anomaly, he plugged in his phone, powered down the screen, and retired for the night, anticipating a demanding shift ahead.

The following afternoon at the coffee truck, Vance recounted the incident to his closest colleague, Valerie, between serving beverages.

"Bro, you literally just gave some random person your address. What were you thinking?" Valerie asked, disbelief evident in her tone.

"Clearly I wasn't thinking at all," Vance admitted, leaning against the counter. "I couldn't find a single mention of this product online anywhere after submitting my info."

Valerie chuckled, pointing a finger at him. "Well, if this is real, you'll definitely have to FaceTime me with your results. I can’t wait to see how you react when it’s just a piece of bland gum."

Following the shift, Vance attended a brief pickleball session with his recreational group, testing out a newly acquired blue tracksuit—a budget-friendly purchase featuring a zip-up jacket and matching pants, ideally suited for the turning weather. Upon returning home, he spotted a small, unmarked cardboard box resting on his doorstep.

Picking it up, he gave it a light shake, feeling the contents shift internally. In a state of mild disbelief, he pulled out his phone, texted Valerie a photograph of the package with the message, “You wanna witness my reaction to the new gum?”, and initiated a video call.

Valerie answered almost immediately, her eyes wide with astonishment. "You are so lying! It did not come!"

Leaning his phone against a stack of books on his bed, Vance tore open the box, extracted the slim packet of gum, and turned it over to inspect the reverse side:

3 course meal gum! This gum contains the following 3 meals:

• Hot Creamy Tomato Soup
• Roast Beef with a Baked Potato spread with butter
• Blueberry Pie and Ice Cream

Note: Side Effects May Vary.

Vance sidetracked that he got the actual gum and totally missed the last warning that was printed.

"Are you ready?" Vance asked, holding up the packaging to the camera.

Valerie lay prone on her bed across the video feed, watching in intense anticipation. Vance unsealed the foil, retrieved a single, entirely unremarkable strip of gum, and placed it into his mouth, beginning to chew.

For a moment, there was no sensory change. Then, the flavor profile engaged with staggering intensity.

"Tomato soup!" Vance exclaimed, his eyes widening as a rich, velvety warmth suffused his throat. "It’s hot, but not burning. It’s incredibly creamy—it actually feels like I’m swallowing it."

Valerie stared at the screen, speechless, as Vance continued chewing through the rapid sequence of flavors.

"It’s changing now... roast beef, and the baked potato with melted butter," he murmured, his eyes drifting shut in genuine satisfaction. "I can't believe how accurate this is."

"Now you're making me want to come over and try it too," Valerie pouted, resting her chin in her hands.

"Jealous, Valerie?" Vance teased, striking a pose before the camera. But as he spoke, the final profile took effect. "Blueberry Pie and ice cream! Oh, this is an incredible final—"

Valerie suddenly squinted at her screen, leaning closer to inspect the feed. "Vance, is there something wrong with your camera? The tip of your nose is turning blue."

Vance glanced down at his device's camera view. The coloration was spreading rapidly from the bridge of his nose across his cheeks and toward his temples. He pressed a hand against the skin; the pigment was permanent, defying any attempt to rub it away. Simultaneously, he looked down at his hands, where the familiar skin tone was being entirely subsumed by a deep, saturated indigo.

"What’s happening? My face and hands are turning blue," Vance said, panic rising in his voice.

"Grab the ingredient list!" Valerie urged.

Vance stepped back from the camera, tearing through the packaging, but the reverse side yielded no chemical breakdown or explanatory text.

As he stood, a profound, internal sensation of density took hold. A low, muffled gurgling sound—resembling pressurized air shifting through liquid—echoed from deep within his core. Without any muscular exertion on his part, his abdomen began to push outward against the fabric of his tracksuit. The swelling cascaded downward, expanding his hips and thighs until they filled the trousers to their absolute structural limit.

A sudden, intense shift in mass accumulated through his buttocks, forcing a heavy, distended roundness into his posture.

"You’re swelling up like a blueberry!" Valerie screamed through the speaker.

The transformation accelerated exponentially. The subcutaneous pressure erased every human contour, smoothing his torso, limbs, and neck into a continuous, perfectly spherical geometry. His arms were pressed flush against his sides, the sleeves of his blue jacket pulled taut as the fabric groaned under the expanding volume. A rush of violet fluid surged upward into his facial structure, bloating his cheeks outward and narrowing his eyes into wide circles of pure terror.

Within moments, his legs were entirely absorbed into the massive, gelatinous sphere, leaving only his feet protruding awkwardly beneath a colossal globe of taut, glossy indigo skin. His hands were nearly swallowed by the surrounding mass, fluttering uselessly as the internal liquid sloshed with a heavy, muffled resonance. His head was drawn inward, his puffed cheeks pressing against the high collar of his stretched-out tracksuit jacket.

Vance stood transformed into a massive, perfectly round, juice-filled sphere, teetering slightly as the dynamic fluid shifted inside him. The gum remained locked in his mouth, the lingering, sickeningly sweet taste of blueberry pie persisting against his palate.

"I… I don’t know what to do!" Valerie cried out from the distant, half-sunken phone screen.

"Help... help..." Vance groaned, his speech severely impeded by the massive, swollen density of his cheeks.

"I’ll call the authorities—the Food Safety and Inspection Services. Hold on, Vance!" Valerie shouted in a panic before terminating the call.

The room fell silent, save for the rhythmic, heavy sloshing of liquid within his transformed anatomy. Trapped entirely within a giant, immobile sphere of indigo, Vance could do nothing more than stare blankly forward, completely helpless, and utterly full.

You can read the whole story here: https://www.reddit.com/r/MaleBodyInflationPG/s/YmefKyUyXK

Took a couple pictures to get a reference on what I kinda want. Here is one preview that I added some effects and morphs to. Still got to finish my story and finish my photoshoot for the story, but here is something to kind of hold you guys over.

Finally! My tracksuit was delivered! I have already completed a rough draft of the story so now I just have to edit it. I will also begin shooting photos for the inflation/blueberrification process of myself for the story soon. I am super excited for this second big project! Can't wait to see your reaction. See you around!

While waiting for my blue tracksuit that I will be padding and morphing in my next project, I am starting my rough draft of my story. Debating between two main settings. An original story or the factory inflation mostly gender reversed? What do you guys think?

“And do not forget that Uncle Marcus is coming to stay the weekend before he moves on…”

Uncle Marcus! Of all the relatives in their expansive family tree, he was the absolute last person Felix wanted to see.

Felix paused his summer coursework, the weight of his mother’s announcement sinking in. For years, Felix had harbored an extraordinary secret: he possessed hidden powers. Through rigorous self-discipline, he had kept these powers entirely concealed, even from his parents. His abilities were intrinsically linked to his emotional state; they remained dormant unless he was severely provoked. Usually a mild-mannered teenager, Felix only utilized his gifts when it was convenient and undetectable. However, interactions with Uncle Marcus presented a unique and volatile challenge.

Uncle Marcus was a man burdened by neither a filter nor a sense of self-awareness. As a high-ranking corporate salesman, he possessed a dominating personality characterized by several distinct traits. He shared his critiques without hesitation or regard for the recipient's feelings. Conversations with him were exclusively one-sided, leaving no room for interjection. He operated under the assumption that his corporate success made him the definitive authority on all matters.

Perhaps that is why he excels in sales, Felix mused cynically. People likely agree to his terms just to escape the sound of his voice.

“Mom, please tell me I misheard you,” Felix pleaded, walking into the kitchen. “He cannot possibly be staying here.”

Rebecca, Felix’s mother, released an exhausted sigh. She was acutely aware of her brother’s condescending nature, but her inherently gentle disposition made it nearly impossible for her to set firm boundaries. When Marcus’s upscale hotel reservation fell through—or rather, when he canceled it due to perceived inadequacies—she had capitulated to his demand for lodging, terrified of enduring his verbal chastisement.

“I am sorry, Felix, but he is,” Rebecca replied gently. “It is only for Saturday and Sunday. Then, he will be on his way.” In that moment, Felix’s weekend felt irreparably ruined.

Saturday arrived with dreadful haste. Felix watched from the window as a taxi deposited his uncle in front of their home. For a supposedly elite salesman, Marcus’s appearance was shockingly unkempt. His beard was completely unmaintained, and his hair stood in disheveled tufts. He defended his off-the-clock slovenliness by claiming his relentless work ethic "earned" him the right to absolute apathy at home. Today, this apathy took the form of a faded azure t-shirt and incongruous black sweatpants in the middle of a sweltering July afternoon.

Marcus strode through the front door, his eyes immediately locking onto Felix on the sofa. He offered a condescending smirk.

“Ah, Felix. Still struggling through summer coursework in the middle of July? When I was your age, I possessed the drive to finish my obligations by the first week.” Marcus puffed out his chest—a signature gesture of his inflated pride—and marched toward the kitchen.

Barely sixty seconds in the house, and the self-aggrandizement has already begun, Felix thought, bracing himself for the grueling hours ahead.

Felix spent the majority of Saturday actively evading his uncle. He sought refuge in the backyard to read, only for Marcus to follow him outside to critique the landscaping.

“At my estate, the hedges are manicured to the millimeter, and the floral arrangements are mathematically spaced. This yard would not even pass the preliminary qualifiers at a local garden show,” Marcus declared, puffing his chest before pivoting back indoors.

Felix gritted his teeth, forcing his heart rate to slow. The paramount objective was to keep his abilities hidden; a public outburst would result in a commotion he would never hear the end of.

Later, seeking solace, Felix retreated to his bedroom to play a popular first-person shooter. He was deeply immersed in the match when he sensed a presence. He jumped to find Marcus standing directly behind his chair, arms crossed in judgment.

“I recall the primitive version of this game,” Marcus noted dryly. “However, I abandoned such trivial pursuits to achieve significantly more important milestones in my life. You would do well to follow my example, Felix. Toss this in the trash.” He patronizingly ruffled Felix’s hair and exited, chest once again thrust forward. Not even Felix’s private sanctuary was safe.

The tension escalated throughout the afternoon. While preparing for a walk, Felix heard Marcus loudly disparaging the local park as an amenity strictly for "children." The sheer irritation caused Felix’s control to slip for a fraction of a second as he stepped out the front door. A sudden, localized burst of pressure erupted in his mother’s flowerbed, violently exploding the petals off a blooming rose.

Felix gasped, immediately practicing deep-breathing exercises to ground himself. After hastily disposing of the shredded petals in the waste receptacle, he continued to the park, continuously repeating his mantra: Only one more day. Just one more day until freedom.

Sunday approached its midpoint. Once lunch concluded, Marcus was scheduled to finalize his travel arrangements, call a taxi, and depart. Felix was exhausted from the relentless barrage of criticism, uncertain of how much more his frayed nerves could tolerate.

Unfortunately, fate had one final trial in store. Rebecca was running behind schedule with the meal preparation. Marcus, citing "critical executive matters" on his laptop, had arrogantly delegated the task of organizing his own airport transportation to his sister.

“Felix, dear, could you do me a tremendous favor and deliver this plate to Uncle Marcus’s room?” Rebecca asked from the kitchen counter. “He needs to eat before his flight.”

Felix’s stomach plummeted. He was prepared to offer any excuse to avoid another encounter, but the sheer desperation and exhaustion in his mother’s eyes silenced his protests. She was overwhelmed; delivering the meal was the absolute least he could do.

Resigned, Felix carried the plate down the hall. He found his uncle sitting at the guest room desk, typing vigorously on his laptop, still adorned in the same blue t-shirt and dark sweatpants.

“Here is your lunch, Uncle Marcus,” Felix stated evenly, setting the plate beside the computer. He turned on his heel, eager to escape.

“A ham sandwich on wheat bread. Accompanied by a meager side of potato chips. Is this genuinely intended to satiate me?” Marcus’s voice carried a potent mixture of frustration and his characteristic arrogance.

Felix froze. A familiar, dangerous heat began to rise in his chest. Maintain your composure, he commanded himself.

“I suppose I should commend my sister for her charity,” Marcus continued, completely oblivious to his nephew's rigid posture. “She is a kind woman, but her hospitality is severely lacking. I genuinely regret not retaining my luxury suite.”

Then you should have stayed there, Felix thought bitterly, his hands curling into tight fists.

“Frankly, I am not surprised," Marcus scoffed. "She is painfully gullible. She bends to everyone's will. One might even call it profound stupidity.”

A profound stillness settled over Felix. He was trembling. To attack his own character was one thing, but insulting his mother's kindness was an unforgivable transgression.

“Oh, have I struck a nerve, Felix?” Marcus goaded, turning his chair to face him. “Perhaps we should both go speak to your mother and inform her just how—”

“SHUT UP! DO NOT SPEAK ABOUT MY MOTHER THAT WAY!” Felix roared.
He whipped around, breathing heavily, entirely consumed by an unadulterated rage. The meticulous mental walls he had built to contain his abilities crumbled instantly.

Marcus merely smirked, raising a single, patronizing index finger to silence him. “Felix, let me educate you on—”

A deep, resonant bwwwommmpp filled the room. Marcus’s fingertip swelled dramatically, ballooning outward into a taut, glossy sphere the size of a small plum. He stared at it in bewilderment, rotating his hand in disbelief. Before he could speak, the pressure surged again.

Bwwwommmpp!

His cheeks inflated rapidly, stretching his skin smooth and tight. His lips were forced together into a strained pout as the swelling continued, puffing his face into a ridiculous, cherubic mask. His eyes widened in growing panic.

Bwwwommmpp! Bwooooommp!

The inflation spread like a living force through his body. Felix watched, stunned, as Marcus’s rear swelled massively, the black sweatpants stretching thin and shiny as his buttocks ballooned into two enormous, perfectly round spheres. The sudden lift pushed him higher in the chair. His hips widened dramatically, rounding outward and filling the seat while his thighs and calves thickened into tight, drum-like columns of pressure. The fabric creaked and strained, every seam protesting. Marcus’s chest was next. It ballooned forward in heavy, exaggerated waves, rounding into two massive, firm orbs that stretched his T-shirt to near transparency. The swelling forced his posture upright and rigid, pinning his bloated arms outward. His once-proud chest now dominated his silhouette, pushing so far forward he could barely see past it.

Bwoooooooommmpp!

A powerful surge erupted in his midsection. His belly surged outward with immense force, transforming from a modest paunch into a vast, perfectly spherical dome. The pressure was so intense that Marcus was forced to lean back in the chair, groaning loudly as the growing orb of his stomach pressed against the desk and pinned him in place. He flailed helplessly, his swollen fingers splayed wide, unable to grasp anything. Desperate moans and muffled grunts escaped his puffed lips as his body continued to expand. Every breath sounded strained and rubbery. His entire form was becoming smoother, tighter, and more spherical by the second—arms and legs sticking out like stubby appendages from a rapidly growing human balloon. The office chair groaned in protest beneath the increasing volume and buoyancy. Marcus’s spherical body began to tilt and lift, still partially attached to the broken remnants of the seat. With a final, violent surge—

Bwoooooooom! CRAAAAACK!

The chair shattered beneath him. Marcus, now a massive, taut, and glistening balloon of a man, floated upward. His spherical body bobbed gently against the ceiling, arms and legs wiggling uselessly in the air. He drifted slowly back down only to rise again, bumping softly against the walls and ceiling like an oversized party balloon.

Felix rushed backward into the hallway, pulling the door shut until it clicked. He leaned against the wood, listening to the soft *thud, thud* of his uncle ricocheting off the walls inside. He had completely lost control, transforming his arrogant relative into a literal human balloon.

“Felix?” Rebecca called from the dining room. “Is everything alright back there? I have your lunch ready.”

Felix glanced back at the door. Throughout the entire weekend, Marcus had loudly proclaimed his unparalleled problem-solving skills and superior intellect. Surely, a man of his corporate stature could figure out how to manage his own artificially inflated ego.

“Coming, Mom!” Felix called back, a genuine smile breaking across his face.
He walked toward the kitchen, ready to enjoy a peaceful, quiet meal, entirely free of criticism.

The End